ving the car was quite as eager as anyone else to bring help to his
young master.

The Allison house proved to be a roomy, old-fashioned place on a rise of
ground just this side of Briar Lake, for the Allisons had been among the
first to acquire estates at the exclusive colony.

Mrs. Ferris remained in the car, while Kennedy and I went in to
introduce ourselves.

We found the young society girl evidently now in full possession of her
nerves. She was slender, fair, with deep blue eyes, not merely pretty,
but with a face that showed character.

Anita Allison had been seated in the library, and, as we entered, I
could see that she had hastily shoved some papers, at which she had been
looking, into a drawer of the desk.

"Miss Allison," began Kennedy, "this is a most unfortunate affair and I
must beg your pardon--"

"Yes," she interrupted, "I understand. As if I didn't feel badly
enough--oh--they have to make it all so much harder to bear by arresting
Fraser--and then all this notoriety,--it is awful."

I confess that I had not expected that we would see her so easily. Yet I
felt that there was some constraint in her manner, in spite of that.

"I want to speak frankly with you, Miss Allison," went on Craig gently.
"Is there anything about the matter--of a personal nature--that you
haven't told? I want to appeal to you. Remember, there is another life
at stake, now."

She looked at us searchingly. Did she suspect that we knew something or
was she herself seeking information?

"No, no," she cried. "There isn't a thing--not a thing that I know that
I haven't told--nothing."

Kennedy said nothing himself, but watched her, apparently assuming that
she would go on.

"Oh," she cried, "if I could only _do_ something--anything. It might get
my mind off it all. But I--I can't even cry!"

Plainly there was little except a sort of mental vivisection of her
grief to be gained from her yet--even if she suspected something, of
which I was not entirely sure.

We excused ourselves and left her, sunk deeply into a leather chair, her
face buried in her hands, but not weeping.

"Is Mr. Allison at home?" inquired Craig as we passed out through the
hall, meeting the butler at the door.

"No, sir," he replied. "He went to New York this morning, sir, and said
he'd be at the Club later this afternoon."

We climbed into the car and Kennedy looked at his watch. "It's getting
well along in the afternoon," he remarked. "I think I'